To Gloria– Some Thoughts On Your Adoption

Precious Gloria,

I had every intention of writing you a letter on your adoption day. That was two months ago. It was very literally the best day of my life (your adoption and my birthday on the same day– what could be better?), but all the running around that day didn’t leave time for the letter I so wanted you to have. I wanted you to know exactly how special that day was– how special you are to me and to all of us.

The barely controlled chaos of that day was a pretty good summary of the months you’ve spent with us. The intentional time I wanted to spend writing never happened because we were too busy living. This has become a common theme since you entered our world. And I have zero regrets about that.

Your story in our home starts years before we ever got the phone call to ask if we wanted to be your family. It started with an emotional fight for the rights of siblings to be raised together. All your siblings who joined our family through adoption have been separated from a brother or sister. We didn’t want that to happen again. So we fought through letters and meetings and phone calls and interviews and eventually we ended up fighting for legislation to protect the right of brothers and sisters to be raised as brothers and sisters. We decided if the call ever came that would allow us to raise our kids with a sibling, we would do everything we could to make that happen.

But it would still be years before we saw your sweet face.

Around Christmas of 2019, your big sister began to pray for you. It was her Impossible Prayer Request she wanted our church pastor and elders to pray for over the next year. Not just a baby, but a sister (even when I tried to convince her that any baby would be a miracle and maybe she shouldn’t be so specific). She was relentless in her prayers, regularly asking me if I had any news about her baby sister yet. Each time, it broke my heart to tell her there was no baby sister. This was one thing I couldn’t give her, no matter how much I wanted to.

But in July of 2020, her prayers (and mine too) were answered.

Saying “yes” to that phone call was the easiest “yes” we’ve ever said in foster care. We knew you were our family before we ever saw your face. Whatever happened with your case, you were our daughter’s baby sister. How could we do anything but love you? And you were so easy to love right from the start.

The first few days visiting you in the NICU you captured our hearts. We met you the day after you were born (I promise we got there as soon as we could!) and were smitten. Your daddy would FaceTime me so I could see you during his visits with you and I would do the same for him. We got to spend special time just with you to rock you, feed you, sing to you and get to know you before we brought you home to the chaos of your older siblings. Those were precious days. But nothing was as precious as introducing you to your siblings.

You were loved. Instantly. Fully. You were doted on and adored. And I can see it now in the little girl you are. You feel fully confident that the world is safe and people will love you and protect you. It’s all you’ve ever known. Your birth mom decided early in the case that you would be loved with us. She held you and spoke sweet words to you and let us be your family. Your team worked for your good as quickly as I’ve ever seen a team work. They were responsive and supportive and excited to see you get timely permanency. Your judge knew you were just where you needed to be and said such affirming things at your adoption. You will never remember those foster care days, which is a gift I’m so thankful for. As I have said about you a million times, every baby should be this loved.

In all of this, there’s something I want to make certain you always know. We said “yes” to you at first because you were a sibling of our child. That was easy. We said “yes” to you forever not out of duty or obligation because you were a sibling, but out of our deep love for YOU. That was easy too. You are not just a sister. You are my daughter. A precious, cherished daughter.

You make me smile every day with your dimpled grin and boisterous laugh that you try so hard to contain until you can’t. It is so easy to tell that you know I’m your mom. We may look nothing alike, but in our hearts, we are the same. We are family. You are my baby, my daughter, my much-prayed for blessing. Adoption is complex, but my love for you is simple. That simple love will push me to help you navigate the complexity of adoption for a lifetime to come. It may be hard, but we will do it together.

And what love you experience every day from your siblings! There are daily arguments over who gets to hold you, who loves you most, who can help take care of you. And seeing how your brothers and sisters love and care for you has only made me love them more. I’m so proud of how they’ve handled all of this, especially the days when your future with us didn’t seem certain. Amazingly, there was not one moment of sibling jealousy over your arrival, only between the older siblings when it comes to who you might love most. They think you are the cutest, sweetest little person that’s ever lived and declare that over you daily. The love you experience is not diminished by being in a large family. It’s not divided. It’s multiplied over and over again.

I remember how overwhelmed I felt when we had four kids ages 5 and under. I remember how I felt ridiculous when we said “yes” to a fifth child, wondering if people would think I couldn’t handle it. At first, I felt downright embarrassed to admit we were pregnant with baby #6. What kind of crazy people were we? But I’m thankful that at this point in my parenting journey, I just don’t care. You are our 7th and we are delighted. And what a gift that so many other people are delighted with us. You have such a large circle of supportive friends and family who knew exactly how special it is to raise siblings together and also knew how loved you would be in our home. If there were any concerns about you not getting enough attention as a seventh child, one look at how our home actually runs would convince anybody of the opposite. You are the center of this little world and that’s just how everybody here wants it. Some days, I wish all kids had the benefit of being seventh children– raised by experienced parents who long ago quit being panicked about everything, and doted on by protective older siblings. I love this family and feel so blessed to get to be The Mom.

Gloria, I can’t wait to see what God will do with your life. Your dad and I are going to do our best to raise you with joy and respect and structure and nurture. I want you to be a voice for those who can’t speak for themselves, the way your team spoke up for you. I’m excited to see what will become of a girl who is so loved, so valued, so spoiled in all the best ways, growing up in a home that will teach her the value of hard work, the importance of failing early and often, and the joy of sharing the love you’ve been given with others. I don’t know if you’ll change the world. I just know you’ve changed mine.

Love,

Mom